


Life, death and many bottles of Morphine

by Pinstripes



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Avia belongs to ScarletRebel, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-06-23 20:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15614697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinstripes/pseuds/Pinstripes
Summary: Victorian AU.Grier's a biologist with a special interest in insects and Asher is his mentor. They work together to try and find a cure for death.Tiny snippets of an idea I've been thinking about.





	1. Syringe

“Are you sure this is wise?” 

Grier could feel his mentor’s stare from where he stood, back to him. The young scientist flicked the needle of the syringe he held so tightly in his grip. 

“Of course. Well….no… but who else am I to test on? If we are to find a way to challenge the notion of death itself, should we each not make our own sacrifices?” Grier turned to look at Asher, raising his eyebrows in question. “For science?” 

Asher frowned, blue eyes stared down Grier’s own hazel ones. “Should I be concerned about your inherent deathwish?” 

“Perhaps. Though I have the details down to the minute. No matter what this serum does…it shouldn’t kill me.” 

“And if you are wrong? And it does?”

“Then I am a failure of a scientist.”

“Grier….” Asher stepped towards him, though Grier kept his place, needle pressed into his forearm. 

“Then watch over me, Professor. Keep me safe while I undertake this journey.”  


	2. Awakening

Grier awoke to the soft patter of rain on the window and a gentle hand on his head. His eyes fluttered open but then snapped shut from the blinding light above him. A grunt and the hand moved away. 

“You’re finally awake then?” His mentor asked. Grier could feel his mechanical arm pressed awkwardly into his side. Was he…lying in his lap? The young man jolted upwards, eye wide open this time, while he patted himself over- checking for damage as he stood. 

“What- What happened?” 

“You passed out.” Asher groaned as he lifted himself up out of his position cross-legged on the floor. He was far too old for all this. 

“Passed out?” Grier repeated. He remembered injecting himself and then…pain. So much pain…and then…nothing. With shaking hands he reached for his throat to check his own pulse. Still alive. Probably. 

“Did- Did anything happen?” 

“You screamed a lot. Gave me a bloody headache. And then….well…I put it down to delirious babbling, to be honest- you weren’t making a lot of sense but I did my utmost to transcribe. It’s all in the notebook over there.” Asher pointed to the heavy leather bound book on the table. Before Grier could investigate Asher put a hand to his chest, stopping him. 

“Before that there is….one other thing that occurred, my dear assistant. One I think perhaps you should brace yourself for.”


	3. Morphine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avia finds Grier in an awkward situation. 
> 
> Avia belongs to @scarletrebel

A pause that stretched into something longer. Something more solemn. Concern.

“Miss- Miss Avia, I didn’t e-expect you so soon.” Grier stammered, trying desperately to get his eyes to readjust and focus on the young woman stood in his doorway, her own eyes wide with surprise. She approached slowly and carefully, as though at any moment she might cause him to be startled and run from her. She inspected his sorry state. He was lying out on his leather sofa, which was half covered in papers and journals. His waistcoat was undone as was the first few buttons of this shirt and his left sleeve rolled up past the elbow. A syringe and a bottle of morphine sat disastrously too close on the table in front of him, nearly hidden amongst the papers but standing out like a beacon. He must have looked a mess as he fumbled to pull down his sleeve, hiding his mess of an arm from her. Not that it made any difference, the story was laid out bare before them.

“Grier what have you-”

“Let us not talk of this, dear sister. Not now …at least. Grant me some time to…properly explain myself.” Grier raised a shaky hand to begin doing up his shirt and waistcoat. To hide everything beneath a layer of formality again.

“No. No, not this time. You ask me here to help you, and help you I shall.” She walked to the small table in front of him and picked up the syringe from the table, footsteps echoed around the quiet of the room.

“Not with this you cannot.” Grier wheezed out as he stood, straightening out his waistcoat. On closer inspection, Avia noted Grier’s wayward hair, unkempt and greasy. Avia’s stare softened. ‘And like the colour of snow’, she thought. It had been a few months since the experiment that had changed her good friend’s appearance, however there were no signs of the effect wearing of in any way. It was permanent, it seemed. 

He hadn’t of shaved in what looked like days and she could see the deep dark circles making their home under his eyes. Those golden eyes of his stared back at her, full of tiredness but for a small glint of bursting excitement. A discovery. A success in his research. New ideas and new things to keep his ever active mind busy. 


	4. Grave-robbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toland and Grier have a chat.

“My dear boy, it certainly has been a long time. How tricky fate is for us to meet again in this place.”

The older man’s wheezing voice was unforgettable to Grier, who felt a chill run up his spine as he turned to face him. He flashed the man a nervous smile, caught red handed in the treacherous act of gravedigging by a man so well versed in death, Grier felt like perhaps he had felt the disturbance in his own bones.

“T-Toland. How uh- What an unexpected surprise.”

Toland raised an eyebrow. Hands clasped firmly behind his back, Toland eyed Grier from his higher position outside the grave. Ironically enough, Grier thought as he attempted to wipe the dirt from his hands onto his pinstriped trousers.

“Stay where you are, boy, I’ll come down to you.”

As Toland descended into the pit, Grier cast a look at his former mentor. He didn’t seem like he’d aged at all, though it had been many years since the two had last … interacted. However, his slicked back, dark hair betrayed his aging slightly, as Grier counted far more grey hairs illuminated by the lantern at the edge of the grave than on previous encounters.

“As I recall this is not the first time you have stolen the bones of the dead, is it? Yet you still make such amateur mistakes, boy.”

“ I am not - this is not stealing this is- uh”

“ Borrowing?” Toland offered, grinning in a way that showed off far too many teeth.

“Research.”

“Mmm and I am the Queen of England.”

There was a pause as the two men stared each other down. Grier felt beads of sweat forming on his brow, for if Toland told anyone about this he’d be done for. His fledgling career would be in ruins not to mention his social standing. His life rested entirely in the older man’s hands. Something they both knew and something Toland revelled in.

“Well…why don’t you carry on, my boy. You and I have something very important to discuss afterwards. After you’ve… conducted your research, of course.”


	5. Late Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginnings of an intervention.

Asher found him late into the evening, scribbling hurriedly into one of the many journals that littered the study. A glass and half a bottle of brandy sat nearby on the desk, along with a syringe,a leather strap and a bottle of morphine. Asher frowned at the bottle in disgust. An addiction his student couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how hard he tried to help. Asher couldn’t help but feel it would be the boy’s eventual downfall. 

“Oh! Asher! I didn’t see you there!”

Even in the low candlelight, Asher could make out the dark rings under the younger man’s eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping again. Not for a day or so now. He had a habit of this- staying up for nights on end before his body finally gave up on his wish of working and sleep finally claimed him. Grier put down the quill he was using and yawned, before pouring out a glass of brandy. He gestured to Asher for some, who declined with a wave of his hand. 

“Assistant we need to talk. About…all of this.”

Another vague gesture at the room around them with his good arm. At the various bones and other morbid trinkets that littered the room. At the rows of meticulously preserved insects pinned to boards and the monstrous creations and concoctions his student had been working on. Grier tilted his head slightly, like a confused puppy, as dirty white hair fell gently to one side as he moved. 

“What about it?” 

“I’m- Ikora is….concerned about the state of your health. I believe she said something along the lines of ‘‘We cannot have one of our most brilliant minds fall ill from something as mundane as sleep deprivation… among….other things…”” 

Asher said, walking over and picking up the morphine bottle, inspecting it. Grier grabbed it from his grasp, a desperate look in his eyes. 

“I won’t- I can’t! I’m just- I’m so busy…in so deep……I-I can’t sleep. Not now…I’m so close.”

Asher gave him an annoyed look. Why couldn’t Grier see this wasn’t worth hurting himself over. That Asher himself wasn’t worth anyone hurting themselves over. That was why they started on this venture in the first place, of course. To cure his …sickness. He glanced down at the mechanical arm and flexed the fingers slowly. Grier didn’t seem to notice, seeming instead to be transfixed on an object in the distance, eyes looking slightly unfocused as he continued to mumble to himself, placing the bottle gently down on the table, as though it could be stolen away from him at any point. 

Asher exhaled slowly. Something was eating at his student, but what it was it was obvious that Grier wouldn’t- or perhaps more he couldn’t tell him. Either way, Asher placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Grier shoulder. 

“Come. You can stay in the guest room tonight. You must sleep. I insist upon it. We will discuss…” Asher glanced around the room again, locking eyes with a particularly large taxidermy snake. “…Your… situation…” The snake seemed stuck in a perpetual glare as though it was constantly warning Asher to keep his distance away from it’s prey. Finally he managed to tear his eyes away from the horrid creature and cleared his throat. “ Ahem. We can talk about your situation tomorrow.”

Grier seemed to finally realise he was beaten and slowly rose from his chair, wobbling slightly from the effort. His hands were shaking and he momentarily eyed the morphine bottle hungrily, before catching Asher’s watchful gaze. 

“I won’t be argued with.” 

Asher tried to make his point clear. He wouldn’t have this from his student. Not any longer. They were gonna sort this mess of a boy out, once and for all. Though right now. 

“Bed, Grier. Now.” 


	6. Evening

It was late evening. The sun had set upon them long ago, while they had been talking, discussing the day’s events and the breakthroughs they had… or lack thereof. Grier was gazing out of the window they were sitting beside, a sorrowful expression on his face as he watched a couple of bats flitting around in the night sky. Asher watched him silently. His student had been struggling a lot with personal demons as of late and as much as Asher hated to admit it, it did worry him. 

“Will you tell me your story?” 

Grier looked at Asher for a moment, before placing a cold, pale hand on top of Asher’s own good hand.  Something unspoken lurked behind Grier’s eyes. Something desperate and fragile. Something fearful.

“One day. My good friend…one day. For now will you just…sit with me a while longer?” 

“If I must.” 

“Thank you. I-” Grier paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “Tonight will be long, I feel.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The pale hand gently patted Asher’s before it was lifted. For the rest of the night they sat together quietly, eventually moving away from the window to sit in armchairs beside the fireplace. Occasionally they would talk but found the silence between the two of them just as comforting. Late into the night, Asher turned to speak with his student to find Grier asleep, curled up awkwardly in the chair. He stood, removing his jacket silently and carefully draped it over the sleeping man as a sort of blanket, as the fire had long since died down, before attempting to sleep himself. 


	7. Doctor

As she climbs the stairs to Grier’s apartment, she finds Rook descending them, his heavy footfalls deafening the mournful silence that normally surrounded the tired old staircase. Some of the less fortunate that call the stairs the closest thing to a home, attempt to make way for the rowdy american.

“I wouldn’t go up there if I were you, darlin’ ” His voice full of spite. “Your brother’s opened his home to murderers and con-men.”

“Like you?” She asks, amused at his anger.

Rook huffs and storms the rest of the way down the stairs. Avia shakes her head at her partner’s outburst. Looking up towards her brother’s home, she spots him looking down towards her. He looks a little shaken but seems to soften as he spots her. 

“Avia!” 

She hurries the best she can up the remaining stairs. Upon reaching the top she finds Grier has retreated into his apartment, ushering her toward the door but stops her gently before she has the ability to enter. 

“Uh. Before you come in I wish to warn you, it’s a little…messy in here.” 

“Grier when isn’t your room a mess.”

“That’s- Hey!”

Avia laughs softly as Grier gets flustered. As he straightens his waistcoat subconsciously, it’s then that Avia notices the flecks of blood up his arms and across his chest. She catches hold of an arm, turning it over. Inspecting. She tries to not let her stare linger on the dark bruises peeking out under the rolls of his sleeve. 

“There’s blood- What have you-?” 

“It’s not mine. It’s- uh- well I don’t really know his name, I- look you’d best just come in, I have a dressing to change. Just be careful where you stand.” 

Grier’s room is indeed more messy than usual. The little furniture he has, has been pushed back against the walls and a tarp lies in the center. It’s coated in blood and a number of Grier’s surgical tools are lying haphazardly upon it. Her eyes drag across the scene, like something out of one of those gruesome crime novels she sees Grier read on occasion. Lying so still she almost mistakes them for more out of place items, Avia spots a figure, their back to her, on Grier’s couch. A blanket is covering them and for a moment Avia wonders if perhaps they hadn’t of made it, until Grier walks over and gently pulls the covering back revealing the man underneath.

“Excuse me.” Grier’s voice is calming but serious, his ‘doctor’ voice as she’s come to learn. “Sit up, please. I need to change the bandages.” 

He’s shirtless, she notes as she hovers closer, though not close enough to get in Grier’s way as he helps his patient into a sitting position. She and the man make eye contact as Grier goes to pick up his medical bag, and for the briefest moment she thinks she knows him. It’s clear from his groggy expression that her dear brother has given him something for the pain. The bandages wrapped around his chest and right side are stained with dried blood. He looks a mess. 

“Avia? Could you assist me?” 

She nods and is at his side in an instant. 

“Can you remove the bandages? Carefully, if you will.” As he talks he pulls out a selection of bottles and places them on a table beside the couch. 

“I ain’t dead yet, can do it myself.” The man croaks out, starting to pull at the material around his chest.

“No! No.” Grier moves quickly and all but slaps the mans hands away, kneeling down in front of him and physically pulling his hands away. “You’ll pull out the stitches, it will not heal as it should.” 

The man frowns, annoyed, but finally sighs and lets up. “Fine, kid.” 

As Grier, instead, takes to removing the bandages he instructs Avia on which bottles he will need to clean the wounds. Deft hands work quickly, doing something he’s no doubt done a number of times before. As she’s well aware, there’s much need of doctors around these parts, especially ones that don’t ask questions. Well, not questions about the manner of how one acquires such wounds anyway. The man watches on, almost as intrigued as she is, though he winces every now and again as Grier applies the ointment. 

When he finishes, Grier stands, fresh blood already starting to dry on his hands. He places his hands on his hips and gives the man a look over, as though admiring his handiwork. 

“Now. Rest. Unless you need another dose of morphine, Mister- uh- Sir?” 

The man barks out a laugh before hissing softly in pain. 

“I’m just a drifter, nothin’ more. Call me that.” 


End file.
